


What Isn't Mine

by leigh_adams



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Absinthe, Cheating, Community: hp_unfaithful, Delacours, Drinking, F/M, Infidelity, Yule, Yule Ball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 07:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/pseuds/leigh_adams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her aunt would have called it a "questionable decision."  Whatever it was, she hadn't <i>meant</i> to snog her cousin's boyfriend.  Twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Isn't Mine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Pseudo-Advent Calendar Fest](http://hp-unfaithful.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%3A%20dec%202012%20advent%20festlet) at hp_unfaithful. The prompt was "the Yule Ball."

Lily had never meant for it to happen. 

"Questionable decisions," her aunt would have called it. Aunt Hermione was always so rational about everything. It seemed nothing she or Hugo could do would phase her. While her own mum was quick with a spell and a shout ( _Weasley temper_ , her dad said), Hermione Weasley would sit the offending parties down -- usually Hugo and her -- and discuss whatever mischief they'd caused and why it was wrong. 

Since the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament, it seemed that Lily had done nothing _but_ make questionable decisions. Her distant Delacour cousins had come over with the Beauxbatons contingency, and of _course_ that was reason enough to have a covert party in the modified Room of Requirement. Henri, Stéphane, and Élodie had come bearing absinthe -- it was only polite they treat their French guests to some of Great Britain's finest firewhiskey. 

She'd forgotten -- _questionable decisions_ \-- that her ability to hold her liquor was only rivaled by that of a flea. 

So really, it was all the absinthe's fault. Was she supposed to refuse it after they went through all that trouble of bringing it? Henri had even lit it on _fire_. (And from the adoring gazes on her fellow female's faces, she suspected some of them would be fine with him lighting a metaphorical fire on them). 

Well, maybe it wasn't the absinthe's fault. She knew damn good and well that her ability to count past two disintegrated after her second drink.

But it was much preferable to thinking about the blunt fact -- that it was her own fault she'd gotten drunk and snogged her cousin's boyfriend. 

In her defense... well, no. Her sham of an argument was just that. A sham. Rosie had declined to join their little party, sniffing something about studying and prefect's setting a good example. Scorpius hadn't shared her qualms, despite the significant look Rose had given him when he'd accepted the invitation. 

Lily hadn't _meant_ to, of course. It had just... well, it had just happened. The party was starting to break up, she was drunk (and so was he), and he just smelled so good. She had a weakness for a man who smelled good -- and Scorpius Malfoy smelled like evergreen with a hint of some expensive cologne mixed in. It was a flimsy reason, but she'd kissed him.

And in that dark corner of the Room of Requirement, unseen by their fellow party-goers, he'd kissed her back. 

They were both at fault. And Lily had sworn it'd never happen again -- until it did.

This was _definitely_ both their faults. They didn't even have alcohol to blame for the lowered inhibitions; not unless one counted the tiny bottle of whiskey Lorcan Scamander had slipped into the punch, and there hadn't been enough to make a difference. Her erstwhile date had slipped off for his own bit of back-corridor snogging with Matt Finch-Fletchley. If Lily's thoughts -- and lips -- hadn't been otherwise occupied, she might have been cross at him.

As it were, she didn't care about Lorcan. Not when Scorpius had her pined tightly to the wall, his lips slanted over hers in that delicious way once more. Lily's lips parted, and he took the opportunity to flick his tongue against hers. Her grip on his dress robes tightened. This was wrong. She shouldn't feel this way about Scorpius. His kisses shouldn't make her knees weak, send butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She shouldn't be here with him. _I'm so sorry, Rosie._

Her breaths were shaky when they finally broke apart for air. "Gods, Scorpius," she whispered in the minute space between their lips. "We can't do this."

"I know." His reply was equally as labored. "But I can't stop thinking about you, Lils." His hand slid around to the small of her back and pulled her closer. Lily closed her eyes to block out the sight of his face, so close to her own. It didn't help; she could still feel every inch of his body against her own. 

She swallowed and shook her head. "You have to. We -- _this_ \-- can't happen. We can't do that to Rosie." Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and met his gaze. " _I_ won't do that to her." For all their differences -- and _Merlin_ , were there plenty -- Rosie was still her cousin, and she didn't want to hurt her.

Lily's grip loosened until her hand lay flat against his chest. The heartbeat she could feel through his robes matched her own; pace elevated. A tiny bit of pressure was all she needed to get him to step back -- it was hard to think with him so close to her. She didn't _want_ to walk away from Scorpius, but she had to do the right thing. 

The right thing. From the time she'd been old enough to toddle to her father's knee, he'd taught her the importance of choices, of right from wrong. Yes, she had made plenty of questionable decisions in her life, but she could still turn back from that path. She just had to let him go.

Her lips quirked in a wistful little smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Run by the loo. You've got lipstick on your cheek."

"Lily, I --"

She held a hand up. "Don't." Her voice dropped to a whisper, and she added, " _please_."

Scorpius was silent, holding her gaze for a long moment. Finally, he gave her a small nod. "I'm sorry," he said softly, almost as an afterthought.

She swallowed and tried to ignore the prick of tears that threatened. Tried to ignore the way those fluttering butterflies plummeted to the pit of her stomach. Tried to ignore the inexplicable pang of pain that zipped through her heart. "So am I."


End file.
